


Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels

by bunnymaccool



Series: Holy!Dean [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Castiel loves the color orange, Frottage, I miss the SPN angels, M/M, Submissive/Bottom Dean, family unit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymaccool/pseuds/bunnymaccool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war in Heaven was over and the world was right again. As right as it could be, anyway, considering there were still all manner of monsters and assholes scurrying free across its surface. The All Mighty Father had finally shown his face and cleaned up his mess. Of course, his version of cleaning had been using Dean Winchester as the mighty Swiffer of destruction in Heaven, <em>but hey … it all ended up okay, right?</em></p><p>Only now... Dean finds himself with a houseful of angels that are apparently <em>his</em>, a burgeoning relationship that he as NO IDEA what to do with, and Crowley sneaking about in the shadows. Oh... did he mention that he can somehow heal plants on accident and maybe fix the cracks in plaster by staring at them? Yeah, well... there's <em>that.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the 2012 DeanCasBigBang on LJ! A sequel to my DCBB from last year! 
> 
> PLEASE check out the absolutely STUNNING art by Leyna [HERE!](http://leyna55.livejournal.com/19489.html)
> 
> Warnings: Bad language. Sexy times. Bottom Dean.

 

The war in Heaven was over and the world was right again. As right as it could be, anyway, considering there were still all manner of monsters and assholes scurrying free across its surface. The All Mighty Father had finally shown his face and cleaned up his mess. Of course, his version of cleaning had been using Dean Winchester as the mighty Swiffer of destruction in Heaven, _but hey … it all ended up okay, right?_

Chuck … (and fuck if Dean was EVER going to get used to thinking of the scrawny ex-prophet as GOD) … had restored order with the Heavenly Hosts, revived all the fallen from the Civil War, and even recreated Dean himself. Using his own all-powerful grace, no less. Things weren’t all coming up roses, though. Castiel had been banished to Earth as Dean’s personal angel army of one, and it had affected the man more than he would probably ever willingly acknowledge. 

Upon his return to earth, to the little cabin holding two thirds of his remaining family and after the impromptu make-out session with Cas on the floor … Dean had promptly passed out. His new body was still adjusting to its creation, and he just hadn’t been physically capable of staying conscious. According to Sam, Dean had slept for three days straight, but Castiel’s utter calm about the short catatonia had kept the younger Winchester from freaking out too much. 

All Dean remembered were the epic dreams he’d had. Dreams about Heaven and Hell and the creation of them both. He saw galaxies come into existence and stars vaporize into ashes. He watched a sun go super-nova and witnessed the first sparks of life develop on earth. Chuck appeared in a different visage (one eerily close to Vincent Price) … and Dean observed him as he created his angels, banished Lucifer, and then disappeared from Heaven entirely. 

When Dean finally woke, his head was so full to bursting of images and thoughts that he hadn’t spoken to Sam or Cas for at least another day. There was too much information to compute, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Chuck was trying to tell him something … or if it was all just residual from being created with God’s Grace. He was conscious enough to function and move around, but his mind was quite literally … _elsewhere._

Finally, he slam-dunked back into full awareness when they pulled up outside the house of Singer Salvage and Bobby and hugged him tightly to his chest … and then smacked him hard upside the head. 

“OW!! What the _hell_ , Bobby!?”

The older man growled under his breath as he turned to stalk back towards the house. 

“Don’t you give me that, boy … you know exactly what that was for! Sending that poncey prick of an angel to tell me goodbye! I shoulda smacked you with a frying pan!”

Things in _la cabesa de Dean Winchester_ seemed to reboot and fade back into normal after that. Bobby had fired up the grill and laid out a spread fit for a king, with the help of Sheriff Jodie Mills (and ho-boy Dean really hadn’t seen THAT one coming). There had been copious amounts of alcohol and grilled meat to devour between them as Sammy laid the whole sordid tale out for Bobby. For his own part, Dean had just listened with half an ear as he’d stuffed his face, because _hello_ … suddenly ravenously hungry. 

Cas was a steady presence at his side. The grounded angel wasn’t saying much … he was mostly just _there_ … always within reaching distance. Every once in a while, he would cast his gaze heavenward and his eyes would take on a haunted glaze. Dean would end up reaching over to pat the angel on his shoulder or thigh gently, and then Cas would turn those stunning blues back at him and smile just the tinniest bit. When bedtime finally rolled around, Cas dutifully followed Dean upstairs towards the bedroom that had always been reserved for the elder Winchester brother. Bobby’s eyebrows damn near hit his hat line, and Dean wondered if Sam had left out that tasty little tidbit from the tale. 

“Headin’ to bed, son?” _What the hell is going on?_

Dean smiled.

“Yup.” _Figure it out for yourself, old timer._

Castiel bowed his head slightly in deference towards the older man before stepping through the doorway into Dean’s room. Dean chuckled softly at the look on Bobby’s face before whispering a quiet goodnight and shutting the door behind himself and his angel. 

_His angel. Heh._

Cas was standing in the middle of the moonlit room looking completely lost. Dean smiled as innocently as he could manage and then started to shuck his road-worn clothes off onto the floor. When he was just down to his faded black boxer briefs, he flopped face first onto the bed and huffed out a weary breath. 

“It’s fucking good to be home.”

The angel shuffled his feet for a few seconds and Dean grinned into his pillow. 

“Dean? What should … what should I do?”

The hunter groaned and reached around to scratch a pesky itch on the back of his thigh. 

“Bedtime, Cas. That means you go to _bed_.”

Complete silence filled the room for several moments, and Dean had never been good at ignoring his curiosity. He turned his head and laughed softly at the look of consternation on the angel’s face. 

“Cas. Take off your clothes. Get into bed. Sleep.”

He was answered with a jerky nod, and then the familiar tan jacket was slipping off those deceptively slim shoulders. Cas carefully removed each item of clothing until he was down to a thin white undershirt and a pair of plaid cotton boxers. Dean couldn’t help the grin that split his face as Cas looked down at his underdressed state. 

“I have never removed the materials of this vessel before.”

Lifting his arm just enough to pat the bed beside him, Dean _totally did not giggle. Seriously. Shut up._

“Well get used to it, pal … no angel of mine is going to be seen day in and day out wearing the same nerdy accountant wear.”

Cas shot him a mild glare, but carefully padded over to the bed and crawled onto the ancient mattress. 

“I have never had reason to change clothing before. It suits me fine.”

Dean scooted a little more towards the wall and the angel slowly spread himself down into a resting pose. He copied Dean’s position exactly, as if he wasn’t sure how else to lie down to go to sleep. 

“Well, it doesn’t suit _me_. We’re going to get you some new clothes. Something less Jimmy Novak and more Castiel- … huh. Guess we’re going to have to get you a last name, aren’t we?”

The angel ran his fingers down the seam of the pillow case. 

“If I have to have one … can I choose it myself?”

Dean grinned. 

“Of course you can. Do you have something in mind?”

Cas shook his head slightly.

“Not yet. I will let you know.”

It was quiet after that. The echoes of the crickets outside were working hard to lull Dean into sleep. He let his eyes drift closed and enjoyed hum of the air conditioner, and the cool breeze of it across his back. There was a mild warmth from the closeness of Castiel’s body and the hair at his nape stirred a little with the angel’s deep breaths. All in all … it was a pretty perfect way to fall asleep. 

~*~

Something stirred him to wakefulness just as the morning sun was beginning to glow red against his eyelids. A soft tickle of a touch was moving slowly down his back and up along his ribcage. Fingertips. They spread across his shoulders and slid down to cup his elbow for a brief second, before backtracking to skate across the knobs of his spine. 

_Cas._

Dean slowly blinked his eyes open. Castiel was sitting, Indian style, next to him on the bed and observing the movements of his own fingers intently. There was a level of reverence in his gaze that was humbling. Like the planes of Dean’s back were the most amazing thing he could ever imagine. 

“Your scars are all gone.”

He didn’t startle at the sudden words, _hunter_ thank you very much, but a puff of surprised air did escape Dean’s lips. There wasn’t anything he could really think of to say in response to that comment, so he kept his silence and just observed Cas observing him. The angel’s fingertips skimmed down his arm to take hold of Dean’s hand, weaving their fingers together and gripping tight before finally turning to meet Dean’s gaze. 

“What are we to do now?”

A yawn broke free, unbidden, and Dean slowly pushed himself up to mirror Cas’ position without breaking the contact of their hands. Since the day of his return, and subsequent almost-but-not-quite dry humping on the floor (which Balthazar had helpfully recorded - _fucking bastard_ ) neither man nor angel had initiated any further contact. Dean figured now that his imminent demise wasn’t so _imminent_ … they were both a little unsure of what the next step should be. 

“Don’t know … what do you _wanna_ do, Cas?”

“I-”

***KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK***

The door rattled in its frame with the force of the pounding. 

“WAKE UP YOU LAZY JERK!”

_Little brothers … gotta love ‘em._

“SHUT UP, BITCH!”

Sam’s chuckle drifted in from the hallway, followed closely by the stomping footfalls of his epically giant feet. There was a soft murmur of voices further down the hall. Apparently, Sam had been designated to come raze them from sleep. Probably because Bobby was likely still a little freaked out about Dean and Cas sharing the room. When he turned back to said angel, Cas had a small smile ticking into existence. Dean tugged his hand from Cas’ grip and scrambled off the bed. 

“Come on, short and stubby … there’s probably breakfast a’cookin’ and I am _famished_.”

The signature Castiel head tilt popped to the left as the angel stood from the bed. 

“I’m neither short … _nor_ stubby. You and your brother are just very … _large_.”

Dean cackled as he scrounged up a clean shirt to throw on. 

“That’s what _she_ said.”

Head tilt. To the right this time. 

“I do not understand that reference.”

Dean snagged the angel’s arm and pulled him toward the door. 

“Some other time, Cas. Right now … bacon.”

Breakfast was a happy, laid back affair. There were a couple odd looks at Castiel’s state of undress, but Dean didn’t acknowledge it, and Cas was too busy poking at the scrambled eggs to even notice. Once bellies were full and plates were cleared away, Dean smacked Sam hard on the arm and announced that they had business to take care of today. 

“What business, Dean? We just _got_ here.”

“Shopping. _Epic_ shopping.”

Bobby huffed out a snorted laugh.

“I didn’t realize that shopping could be considered business … _or_ epic.”

Sherriff Mills mumbled something under her breath about clearance sales and mace … but all the men folk wisely chose to ignore her. Dean tugged on Cas’ shirt to get him heading towards the bedroom and a more publicly acceptable outfit. 

“It is when you’re playing with your own personal Dress-Em-Up Angel.”

Sam’s face split into a grin. 

“We’re shopping for Cas?”

Dean smacked his lips as he started up the stairs. 

“Damn straight, we are. Winchester angels are going to buck the suit-wearing-accountants trend. I deem it so.”

The younger Winchester laughed again. 

“You _deem_ it so? Jesus, Dean!”

“That’s a bit redundant there, innit, Sammy?”

Sam stayed silent this time as Dean and Cas ascended ( _Ha!_ ) the staircase. 

~*~

Two hours later and Dean was in Hell. 

_Again._

Hell this time being the local mall, and his tormenter of choice … Sam Winchester. Let it never be said that Hell is _not_ other people. Especially family members. Family members reliving some sort of childhood Ken and Barbie dress up fantasy. In all honesty, Dean had just figured they hop down to the local thrift store… buy a couple outfits and head home in time to catch a game on the tube. 

He did _not_ figure that he would find himself trudging behind Heidi and Tim ( _yes he watches Project Runway… shudup … Tim Gunn is fucking awesome_ ) trolling through preppy-ass clothes stores and lugging around four shopping bags. The worst fucking part wasn’t even the shopping … it was the _clothes_. Apparently Cas had a thing for bright colors. Mangos and corals and … tangerines. ( _And why the fuck did there need to be so many names for fucking orange, man? Orange is orange. Cantaloupe? Are you even serious?_ )

Cas said they reminded him of the sunrise … so he kept zeroing in on every damn orange-ish fabric that popped up in a store. Eventually, Sam had talked him down to just buying some simple, soft v-neck tees in the colors that he liked the best. So, basically … six shades of orange, a deep purple, a bright-ass grass green and randomly… black. Next, they snagged him a couple pairs of jeans (the fake-distressed stone-washed kind that gave Dean hives) … and pair of gunmetal gray cargo pants that … actually looked pretty freakin’ hot. 

Then they’d walked by that damn emo-goth-shit store that lingered in every mall, and Cas had caught a glimpse of a black trench coat hanging in the back. He’d nearly _swooned_. Then he wouldn’t leave without it … and Sammy made a good point that at least it wasn’t _tan_. They’d almost made it out of the store when Cas spotted a pair of bright orange Converse high-tops and love was in the fucking _air_. 

Dean dropped down into a hard plastic booth in the food court with a heavy sigh and watched his dysfunctional twins wander off in search of sustenance. They had managed to find Cas some underwear and socks and undershirts he liked, and then picked him up some flannels for layering. ( _Thank Christ they didn’t come in orange._ ) So much for having his angel looking badass … best case scenario Cas was going to appear like an extra that had stepped out of _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!_

The hunter sighed again and dropped his head back to stare idly at the dying potted ivy hanging in a basket above his head. Leaves brittle and brown, the poor thing looked like it hadn’t been watered in weeks. Dean felt a kinship to the plant. He would wither and die, too, if he was stuck in this bastion of capitalism and teenage wank day after day. 

As he concentrated on the ivy, it actually took Dean a second to realize the plant was looking … _better_. The leaves were filling out and morphing into a healthy, bright green. Vines curled up with new strength to wind around the chain that dangling the basket from the ceiling. One even dropped low to barely brush against the crown of Dean’s head. In a matter of mere seconds, the obviously dead flora had revitalized to the most lush, beautiful ivy in the building. 

_Holy shit. What the hell had he just done?_

He was still staring at the ivy when Sam and Cas dropped into the booth across from him. Dean dropped his gaze instantly to the food being laid out on the table and decided not to mention the plant. Later, as they were leaving the food court, he snatched a quick glance at the ivy … only to find that one hanging vine swaying softly as if waving goodbye. He snapped his eyes away and nearly tore out of the mall to the car. 

The drive back to Bobby’s was full of Sam’s random chatter and Cas extolling on the color _melon_ , but all Dean could hear were Chuck’s words. _“There will be differences, though. You’ll see. You’ll feel things differently, see things differently, and do things you couldn’t before.”_ Add that to the funky God (as played by Vincent Price) dreams the week before … and Dean could fully admit he might be heading to a bit of a freak out. 

The freak out hit full steam ahead when they walked into the front room of Bobby’ house. 

“Hello, darlings!”

Dean instantly felt his lower right eyelid begin to twitch. Bobby and Sherriff Mills were standing an appropriately safe distance away from the kitchen as Balthazar hovered near the ancient stove, stirring some tea. Castiel’s face flushed red instantly, the poor angel probably remembering the exact circumstances of his _last_ meeting with this particular brother. 

Thankfully, it was hard to shock Sammy quiet for more than a couple seconds. 

“Balthazar? What are you doing here? I thought you were heading back to … to wherever you usually hide?”

The elder angel sniffed elegantly and rolled his eyes once before taking a small sip of tea. 

“Yes, well … that had been the plan. Unfortunately… I have been … shall we say, _reassigned?_ ”

Proverbial cat apparently releasing his tongue at last, Cas stepped forward with a customary head tilt. 

“Reassigned? But you had left the Heavenly Host … I do not understand.”

Balthazar sighed and shrugged his shoulders dramatically. 

“Unfortunately, now that Dearest Daddy is back upstairs whipping everyone into shape, I am no longer allowed to be a free agent. Apparently I need to _“learn that discipline and loyalty are things to be admired”_ and prove to him that my existence is worthwhile. Or some bollocks like that.”

Dean suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. _Oh … HELL NO, Chuck … you did NOT do this._

“So he sent you to me.”

All eyes turned quickly to Dean upon his grumbled statement. With the exception of Balthazar, most of the corresponding emotions flickering through those gazes were terror and _please-anything-but-that_. The elder angel, however … seemed sadistically _thrilled._

“That’s right, pumpkin! You now have an angel army of two. Aren’t you delighted?”

Bobby’s muttered curse of ‘ _I’m going to need a bigger house’_ could barely be heard over Sam’s loud groaning and Castiel’s bags of clothes falling from his suddenly lax hands. Dean sighed heavily as the room exploded into rapid fire comments and arguments. Sam demanded an explanation. Castiel demanded proof. Mills demanded everyone move the hell out … and Bobby just demanded some whiskey. 

Dean slipped away, abandoning the noise of the house all together to jet out the front door and wander down the path through the piles of rusted-out cars. There was a solemn quiet to be found in the salvage yard that always calmed him and made him feel at home. He had been running through these broken and busted machines for as long as he could remember. Sometimes with Sammy chasing close behind, and sometimes alone. Pretending he was Batman stalking through the towering skyscrapers of Gotham City. 

“I’m sorry about this.”

Dean whirled instantly, startled to find the junk yard completely washed out in white … and Chuck smiling sheepishly a few feet away. The outfit was the same as the last meeting, but there was a heavy weariness to the set of his eyes that wasn’t present before. Dean cleared his throat and slowly crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Not going as easily as you’d hoped, Chuck?”

The smaller man sighed dramatically and shook his head.

“They’re just so …”

“Ridiculous? Psychotic? Poorly dressed?”

“… _exhausting_ , which was totally the reason I left in the first place. You would think after a couple millennia of existence they would lighten up just a _little_ , wouldn’t you?” 

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I wouldn’t know. I’m still trying to get my noggin’ around the fact that I apparently now have TWO ‘My Little Angels’ in my toy box.”

Chuck smirked, just a little, and gave back a shrug with a shrug. 

“I couldn’t figure out what to do with him. The Host wouldn’t accept him back into their folds because of his desertion … and I figured … he had already proved himself to be willing to help you Winchesters. So…”

Said Winchester brought his hands up to rub across his eyes and then down his face. 

“Fine. Yeah. Okay. We’ll make it work. He did help me out.”

The Almighty ex-Prophet cum Lord grinned brightly. Before he could say anything further… Dean figured he should hedge his bets and go for it. 

“Chuck … you said … um, that I would be different. Being made from your Grace. How… how different?”

The smaller man side-stepped around Dean with the pretense of eyeing one of the white-washed stacks of junked cars. 

“I told you there would be side-effects, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but-”

“It’s nothing to worry about. You’ll get used to it.”

Something was off. Something just wasn’t sitting right in Dean’s gut. But what was he supposed to do? Call out GOD for lying to his face? That would probably end with a smiting. Maybe herpes. Or worse… castration. He wasn’t risking it. 

“Fine. That’s great, Chuck. But look, in the meantime, what _exactly_ am I supposed to be doing with my angel army of two, huh? Synchronized diving? Competitive curling? What’s our damn _purpose?_ ”

The deity took a couple shuffling steps backward and wiggled his fingers at Dean.

“Their purpose is whatever you _make_ it to be-”

Dean snorted.

“-maybe get them into the family business? Saving people? Hunting things?”

With those last words, Chuck disappeared and the white-washed world slowly began to fade back into living color. It took him several seconds to realize that he was being shaken roughly by the shoulders, and that Sam was saying his name. 

“DEAN! _DEAN!_ ”

Finally the colors of the world righted themselves, and Dean was startled to find everyone that had previously been in the house, arguing, now surrounding him in the salvage yard looking … panicked. He stepped back out of Sam’s tight grip and blinked his suddenly burning, dry eyes several times. 

“For fucks sake, Sam… WHAT?”

A slightly hysterical giggle burst out of Sam.

“WHAT? What do you mean ‘WHAT’? You weren’t responding to our words at all… and your eyes had gone white … just like…just like before.”

Ah. Okay. Dean could see how that would freak his little brother out some. They had all be under the impression that Dean was completely normal again, after he had been remade. He hadn’t told them about Chuck’s warning, that he might still be able to do things or sense things. Admitting that right away would have been more trouble than it was worth. Sam would have been fretting constantly and who knows what kind of reaction Cas would have. Dean cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Sorry about that, Sammy … but it’s not like before. I was just having a little pow-wow with the big cheese, that’s all.”

Barring Balthazar, all the eyes upon him widened in comical surprise. Bobby had to choke out his words in a strangled grunt. 

“You were talking to GOD? _HERE!?_ ”

Dean shrugged again before turning back towards the house in an attempt to escape the inevitable questions about what had just happened. 

“Yeah. He stopped by. Apologized for unloading his unwanted stray on me-”

“I BEG your pardon!”

“-and then he went on his merry way. Nothing much to tell here, guys. It’s no big deal.”

A massive hand gripped his shoulder and stopped Dean in his tracks. Inwardly he cursed the day that Sam had surpassed him and size and strength. It just wasn’t fair to have a little brother that was so much larger than him. _Fucking genetics._

“Dean-,”

He knocked Sam’s hand away with a little more force than was strictly necessary, but the constant hovering and questions were starting to really wear on Dean’s nerves. He had a hell of a lot of shit on his plate right now and being treated like he was fragile just rubbed his fur the wrong fucking way. No one spoke up again or tried to stop him as he stalked away towards one of the back garages. There was a comfy rocking chair and a mini-fridge full of beer with his name on it. 

~*~

A couple hours and a dozen cheap beers later, Dean was feeling more up for human (and angel) company. He had a pleasant buzz going as he slowly trudged his way towards the house. Halfway there … something gave him pause. 

There was an odd sensation at the edges of his consciousness. Something dark and oily, like a grease stain on the periphery of his mind. It was steadily growing closer to his position, and Dean cursed himself for being unarmed and alone. Just because the war in Heaven was over didn’t mean there weren’t all manner of evil things out for a little Winchester blood. 

“Hello, cupcake.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me. Is it seriously ‘Come Annoy Dean Winchester Day’?_

He knew that smarmy accent, and sure enough, when Dean turned around he was met with a very familiar smirk. 

“Crowley. What the fuck are you doing here?”

The current ruler of Hell pursed his lips in a mocking pout as he sidled up closer to Dean.

“Aw, darling … one would think you weren’t happy to see me.”

Dean sneered but kept himself loose and calm.

“Yeah, well your assumptions would be correct, you limey bastard.”

The demon tutted softly under his breath and slowly began to walk in a circular pattern around Dean’s position. He seemed to be alone, but you could never tell with the crafty little shit. 

“Now, Dean … you’re being so rude. Here I’ve come just to check up on my favorite little meat sack, and you’re resorting to calling names. That isn’t very polite.”

The closer Crowley came, the more that grease slick sensation made shivers trample down Dean’s spine. If nothing else, hopefully that suggested that he would be able to sense demons from now one. Unless it was just Crowley that was setting his spider-sense tingling. 

“Check up on me? What the hell are you talking about?”

Crowley hummed softly as he turned to gaze heavenward. 

“All sorts of nasty rumors floating about, darling. Mostly of your untimely demise … but I can see those must have been greatly exaggerated.”

Well then, that explained it. Crowley was there for answers. The play of powers and the return of Chuck had likely sent ripples and shockwaves through the supernatural community, but unless Crowley had a direct line to Heaven, he didn’t have a clue about what had actually taken place. Or how it might affect him. So Crowley was clearly here for reconnaissance. He wanted to see where he still stood in the grand scheme of things. 

“Well, _obviously_ … I’m standing right here, aren’t I?”

There was an odd glint of understanding in the demon’s eyes that gave Dean pause. For all he knew it could very well be glaringly apparent to Crowley that Dean was made of different stuffs since they last time they had crossed paths. If he was able to sense the power thrumming through the demon’s vessel, there was nothing to say that Crowley couldn’t feel God’s Grace woven into every fiber of his being. 

“Quite right. There you _are_.”

In the next instant, there was a rusted hunk of a car door rocketing towards Dean’s face. Power immediately sang through his veins and the world white-washed a little, just at the edges. The projectile froze in mid-air inches from Dean’s nose, hovering for several seconds before it dropped to the ground. Crowley cackled in hard-edged glee. 

“Oh _there_ you are, gorgeous! I was beginning to wonder!”

Dean fought as hard as he could to keep himself steady and unfazed on the outside, but inside he was quaking in his boots. The power he could feel sparking across his body and jack-rabbiting through his muscles was heady. It was much more than he could comprehend or know what to do with. Maybe he understood Sam’s fear a little now, too. If this was what he could do _now_ … fuck knows what he did when he wasn’t in control … back before the end. 

“What do you _want_ , Crowley?”

The world was still a little white at the perimeter, but for the first time since all the crazy shit began, Dean truly felt like he was in charge of it. In command. 

Crowley smirked.

“Nothing, beautiful. Nothing at all … for _now_.”

Then the demon was gone. Dean could feel the darkness of him moving away quickly, and as he did the whiteness faded from his vision. He huffed a deep breath in relief, then turned his palms up and stared at his hands with more than a little bit of trepidation. This was more than Chuck was letting on. This wasn’t just sensing things a little differently. This wasn’t just something to get used to and not worry about. 

This was … this was _big._

“Dean?”

He glanced up to watch Castiel approach slowly. He was wearing a new pair of his jeans and one of the orange shirts _(apricot, Dean’s memory annoyingly provided)_ but his feet were bare. There was a wariness in Cas’ gaze that Dean had never experienced before. Dean abruptly dropped his hands to his sides and turned to meet the angel head on. 

“What’s up, Cas?”

The angel stopped a couple feet out of reaching distance, then pointedly glanced down to stare at the hunk of metal that Crowley had lobbed at Dean. 

“Did something happen just now? There was a spike of power nearby. We were concerned.”

Dean dropped his arms and rubbed his palms absently against the rough denim of his jeans. 

“Nah … nothing to be concerned about, Cas. Just another little conversation. Promise.”

The angel looked skeptical, but apparently didn’t feel like pushing for the truth at the moment. 

“Are you … coming back inside? Balthazar has been cooking. I would say that I found this more than mildly disturbing, but the meal actually appears quite delicious. If I were to strictly judge by the smell.”

Dean cackled and clapped a friendly arm around the angel’s shoulder to steer them on towards the house. 

“Awesome. Let’s see what the new little wifey cooked up for us, eh?”

A genuine smile broke free on Cas’ normally stoic face. 

“It would be, perhaps, unwise for Balthazar to hear you refer to him as such.”

Laughing out loud, Dean knocked his head softly against Cas’ in a congenial manner as they began to shuffle towards the front porch. 

“Nonsense. This is my angel harem, I’ll call him what I want.”

“Dean-”

“OH! Maybe I can get him to call me Daddy!”

“Dean-”

“That would be awesome, wouldn’t it, Cas?”

“Dean-”

“Ooooo… hey, Cas … will _you_ call me Daddy?”

“Dean-”

“Come on, Cas… say Daddy… say Dad-dy, Cas.”

“De-”

“WILL YOU RIDICULOUS HEATHENS PLEASE SHUT UP AND COME SET THE TABLE!”

Cas flushed a pretty pink across his cheeks as Dean burst out laughing and slammed open the screen door to the front room. All in all it had seemed to serve as a pretty good deflection from the argument earlier, and the questions that would have popped up regarding the power surge from Crowley’s visit. Plus Balthazar had a distinct twitch to his left eye that indicated he had heard at least a portion of the “daddy” conversation. 

That counted as a win in Dean’s book. 

“Coming, sister-wife!”

The resulting spatula-shaped bruise on his temple was _totally_ worth it. 

~*~

Dinner had been a pretty decent affair. Dean couldn’t even begin to pronounce whatever the hell it was the Balthazar had made, but it tasted damn good. The prickly bastard had stayed just long enough to eat his portion, then with a begrudgingly given _‘call me when you need me’_ , had flickered off to wherever he was spending time these days. Dean had slipped away to shower and then gone straight on to bed. Maybe an hour after his well-time escape from having to do dishes found him laying down in bed and contemplating the cracks in the ceiling. 

Cas was still downstairs with Sam and Bobby doing who knows what, so unfortunately Dean was left alone with his thoughts. Like Crowley saying he didn’t want anything _‘yet’_. Like how Dean was now responsible for _two_ powerful ex-angels of the Lord. Like the way that massive power had sprung to the surface _instantly_ to keep him from getting a face full of car. Which meant it wasn’t buried too deep. 

As he focused so intently on the ceiling with his racing thoughts, he eventually noticed that the cracks were slowly beginning to mend themselves under his absent scrutiny. After mere moments, the rough surface was completely intact. Even the water stain in the corner by the window had disappeared. A pulse of irritation ran through Dean’s brain, but quickly dispersed. 

“This is getting fucking ridiculous.”

“Dean?”

Cas’ was poking his head nervously around the corner of the door. Dean waved him into the room. When the angel turned the corner it became blaringly obvious that he was lugging all the shopping bags filled with his new wardrobe into the room. 

“Where should I put these, Dean?”

Dean made a flicking motion towards the chest of drawers in the corner of the room. 

“Take up however much space you want. I don’t think I have much in there right now.” 

The angel nodded and grinned. He began to methodically pull out one piece of clothing at a time and tuck them perfectly into the two bottom drawers. When he was done, he reverently placed his neon orange sneakers next to Dean’s boots on the floor. He eyed the empty bags for a moment before titling his head just a fraction. The bags and shoebox evaporated into nothing. Dean snorted. 

“Handy. Instant recycling?”

Cas pursed his lips and shrugged a single shoulder. The human mannerisms he was continuing to pick up made Dean want to use words like _‘adorable’_ … and then subsequently stab out his own eyes for thinking so. The angel tugged off his jeans, folding them neatly before dumping them in the clothes hamper, then crawled into bed in his fucking _apricot_ t-shirt and dark gray boxer briefs. 

Dean grinned when Cas stretched out beside him, tucking his arm around Dean’s middle and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. It was a moment of intimacy that would have probably freaked Dean the hell out just a couple weeks ago, but now there was this bone deep connection to the angel that he just couldn’t deny. Even if they hadn’t made out again like desperate teenagers the connection was alive and well. 

It was just … Dean really didn’t know what to do next. He understood the logistic of it, of course. Hell, he’d been practically a sex god since the tender age of fourteen. But this was all … _different._ He wasn’t sure what Cas was expecting from him, if anything, and would it even be something Dean would be able to provide? He had never been the steady relationship type. 

Just Lisa … and look how quickly he had fled from that when Sammy came calling. 

“You are thinking too much.”

Dean snorted and turned to meet a set of blazing blue eyes only inches from his own. 

“Most people would say I don’t think _enough._ ”

Cas smiled softly and thumped Dean’s stomach lightly with his fingers. 

“Then they do not know the _real_ you.”

With those words spoken, the angel closed his eyes and settled in for a night of rest. Dean continued to stare at him for several more moments, a little stunned. 

“Huh.”

He finally turned his eyes back towards the ceiling and willed himself to sleep. 

~*~

Cas woke up screaming like the hounds of Hell were ripping him to ribbons and Dean nearly had a heart attack. There wasn’t really enough time to process exactly what was going on before Cas was grasping at him desperately and keening low in his throat. The angel’s long fingers were skimming frantically over Dean’s face and down his neck and torso. 

“Cas? CAS!”

Finally some semblance of reason sparked to life in the familiar blue eyes, and the angel’s breath grew steady and calm. Dean pushed a hand through Cas’ hair to cradle the back of his neck. 

“What happened, Cas? Bad dream?”

The angel nodded but broke his gaze away to stare down at his hands, now lying lifelessly in his lap. 

“Have you never had a bad dream before, Cas?”

There was a gentle head shake and a small grimace given in response. 

“What did you see? Do you remember?”

Cas took a deep breath before speaking. 

“You were being tortured, and I couldn’t- … I was helpless to stop it.”

Dean nodded in understanding and pulled Cas close, so that their foreheads were resting against each other. 

“It was just a bad dream, Cas. It wasn’t real.”

The angel gripped him tightly, slightly sweaty fingertips slipping across Dean’s back to find purchase. 

“It _felt_ very real.”

Smiling softly and trying his best to be reassuring, Dean whispered, lips almost brushing against Castiel’s as he spoke. 

“Yeah, sometimes they really do … but I’m right here, and I’m okay.”

Cas pulled away slightly and his gaze flicked down to Dean’s mouth. They hadn’t kissed since that moment on the floor of the cabin, and Dean was suddenly very conscious of that fact. Without thinking, he licked his lips, chewing the lower one just slightly for a want of something to do. Castiel’s eyes widened a fraction and that was all the warning Dean had before the angel practically launched himself at him. 

Their lips slammed together and Cas took instantly to biting and suckling at Dean’s mouth. The ferocity of the kiss had Dean gasping, and the angel took advantage of his shock to delve his tongue inside, hot and deep. Cas pushed him backwards with his weight, and Dean allowed himself to fall back on the bed, his angel’s warm body splayed across him and pressing him into the mattress. For as long as Dean had been having sexual relations, he had always considered himself the aggressor. The one in charge. Whether it was because this was his first time with another man, or just because it was _Cas_ … he found himself handing over control to the angel. 

Cas shifted so that one leg slipped between Dean’s, and then his thigh was suddenly pressing deliciously against Dean’s crotch. Dean broke away from the kiss to gasp loudly and throw his head back, exposing his neck to Cas. The angel growled low in his throat before latching his mouth over the offered skin, nibbling and sucking bruises across its expanse, all the while rubbing his thigh maddeningly across Dean’s erection. 

“Fuck… Cas … _fuck_ … when did you … how …”

Complete sentences just weren’t happening. Not when Dean felt like his brain might be dribbling out of his ears. The sparks of pleasure lightening up and down his spine were unlike anything he could remember experiencing before. It honestly made him feel like all the sex he’d had before was just _sex_ , and this was something _else_. Cas mumbled against Dean’s lips as he stretched up to kiss him again. 

“I’ve been … researching…”

If he had been able to catch his breath, Dean would have chuckled.

“Researching?”

Cas hummed delightedly as he mouthed softly along Dean’s jaw.

“Yes. Sam showed me some very helpful websites on the internet-”

Thoughts of his little brother showing Cas what was probably, _essentially_ gay porn made Dean’s heart stutter in embarrassment. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Oh _no_. 

“-and Bobby suggested some literature. ‘Homosexual Intercourse for the Intellectually Challenged,’ I think?”

Horror warred with libido … and horror won. Dean froze and pushed against Castiel’s shoulders. 

“You’ve been… you’ve been talking to Sam and Bobby? About sex with me?”

The angel seemed put out at being pushed away for a moment, before he realized that Dean was honestly horrified at the thought. 

“I am sorry… should I not have?”

Dean screeched and levered himself to a seated position. 

“NO!!”

Cas appeared honestly contrite, and Dean’s erection was definitely done for the night. 

“No… Jesus, Cas! That’s … I mean … if you have questions, you can ask me, okay? Come straight to me and we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Castiel shrugged and flopped sideways on the bed, refusing to meet Dean’s gaze. 

“I just didn’t understand. Nothing has happened since we left the cabin, and I thought perhaps you had changed your mind. That you didn’t want me … _that way_ … anymore.”

Dean slumped forward until he could push Castiel onto his back, then he carefully laid his head down on the angel’s chest and wrapped his arms tightly around Cas’ middle. The angel cautiously raised his hand to thread his fingers through Dean’s short hair. 

“I _do_ still want you _that_ way, Cas. Hell, we’ve been sleeping in the same bed for weeks. I just … I’m not good at this kind of thing, and I’ve never been with another man before, so I’m just taking my time a bit. Alright?”

He could feel the other man nod beneath him. 

“I understand, Dean. We will wait until you are ready.”

Dean sighed against the fabric of Castiel’s shirt. The arousal and adrenaline that had been singing through his veins were both dissipating, and his eyes felt heavy with sleep. 

“I do love you, Cas.”

The chest beneath him hummed with a happy purr as the fingers carding through his hair moved to gently swipe across Dean’s bottom lip. 

“I love you, too, Dean.”

The hunter drifted off to sleep content with the steady thump of the angel’s heartbeat in his ear. 

~*~

The next morning was oddly silent in the house. Everyone was seated at the table, but no one was really talking, Bobby and Sam were going out of their way to keep from meeting Dean’s eyes. Served them right, too. Let them be a little mortified now in the harsh light of morning. They probably thought sex had happened last night and were trying not to visualize it. Dean had the sudden urge to walk around like he had a sore ass and take the uncomfortable tension up a notch. 

_Just for shits and giggles._

Dean got a backwash of gingersnap cookies just before the sound of wings fluttered to life in the dining room. 

“Good morning, lovelies!”

And that was just what he needed to ratchet up the bizarre day he was already having. _Perfect._

“So, look, duckies … I have news…”

Something new slipped into the back of Dean’s throat. Super sweet and syrupy. Like rock candy and lollipops and cream soda. Just before the sound of wings repeated in the room, Dean dropped his head into hands and groaned. 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

“BABIES!!! I’VE MISSED YOU!!”

Sam spewed coffee across the table, Castiel shot to his feet, and Bobby sighed as he slipped some whiskey into his mug while Sheriff Mills was distracted by the newcomer. Dean raised his head, and sure enough … same little loud-mouthed shit with his bright eyes and trickster smirk. 

“Gabriel.”

The arch-angel, who had been in the middle of hugging the life out of a horrified Sam, turned to Dean and grinned sincerely. 

“Dean-o!! Sweetcheeks! Honey bear! Jesus Junior! It’s good to see you, you bastardy ball of angst!”

The smaller man wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and squeezed before planting a noisy kiss on the crown of his head. Then he was quickly distracted by Castiel, who seemed completely perplexed on the events of the morning. He didn’t even move as Gabriel hugged him close. 

“Cas! Little bro! Look at you! You’ve said ‘no’ to tan! I knew you had it in you!”

“Gabriel? I … you are back?” 

A pounding headache was slowly creeping into Dean’s skull that magnified with each voice that joined in the chorus of chaos echoing off the walls. 

“You bet your sweet ass, I am!”  
“I was asked to escort him here. He’s here. Please tell me I can go now.”  
“God brought you back with the rest? When he fixed everything?”  
“Or maybe it’s not your sweet ass… I’ve heard its Dean’s ass now.”  
“But why are you here?”  
“I’m gonna need a bigger house.”  
“I beg of you, can I please leave? He gives me hives.”  
“Bobby… what the hell is going on?”  
“Fuck you, Balty! I’m adorable!”  
“No seriously, why the hell are you here?”  
“Why would it be Dean’s ass and not my own?”

 _That was it._

“SHUT _UP!_ ” ***KA-CRACK***

A deafening thunderclap shook the house, rattling the windows and silencing everyone instantly. Well, almost everyone.

“Sorry, boss.”

“Can it, Gabriel.”

When Dean rose slowly from the chair and turned to face the room’s occupants, he was met with several expressions of utter shock… and a little fear, with the exception of Balthazar and Gabriel. It would figure that if Chuck had assigned them to Dean directly, they were already aware that he still had power at his disposal. He had managed to keep it under wraps from everyone else. 

Sam swallowed.

“Dean-”

Dean held up a hand and his brother fell silent. Slowly crossing his arms over his chest, Dean tipped his head back until he could stare at the ceiling above him. 

“We need to talk.”

The world whited out instantly around him, and there was Chuck sitting on the kitchen counter and swinging his legs.

“Hi, Dean!”

Dean sighed as his shoulders slumped. 

“Seriously, Chuck? Gabriel? What the fuck am I supposed to do with an arch-angel turned trickster turned arch-angel?”

Chuck shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with the hem of his housecoat. 

“Gabriel was so used to Earth, I knew he wouldn’t be happy with the Heavenly Host. Not to mention YOU were the one who managed to bring him back around and do what was right. He sacrificed himself for _you_ … so I figured … he was kind of already yours anyway.”

The phrase about the weight of the world being put on your shoulders suddenly seemed very apt. 

“Chuck …”

“Just think of all the good you’ll accomplish! You have three powerful angels at your disposal. All yours. Do you want any more? I can get you Uriel … or Ananiel, maybe?”

“OH, HELL NO-”

“Oooooh… you’re right. That would be kinda awkward now, wouldn’t it?”

“Chuck…”

The All-Father hummed in response. Dean glanced down at his own feet for a moment, surprised that they were bare and he was dressed in all white, like when he awoke from his moment of martyrdom. 

“Did you happen to see what happened with Crowley?”

Something dark flashed across Chuck’s face for the briefest of seconds, but then he was all grins again. 

“Don’t worry about Crowley.”

Dean nodded and watched as Chuck hopped down from the counter and the white began to bleed out of the room. 

“Wait! I’m looking after three of your most dysfunctional kids… I want some alimony!”

Chuck laughed. 

“ _Really_ , Dean?”

Stomping his foot like a toddler, Dean huffed. 

“Do you realize how much candy Gabriel eats? And we don’t have any more rooms in the house, we’re already imposing on Bobby as it is, Cas has gone fashion diva on me … and I can’t really get money by nefarious purposes anymore, right? So what the heck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to provide?”

The smile he received in response to his words was warm and wide. Chuck reached out to rest a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. 

“Alright. I’ll help you out a bit. I’m so proud of you, Dean. You’re going to be just _perfect_.”

Dean blinked at the phrasing, but the white around him was already beginning to fade.

“Perfect for _what_ , Chuck?”

Everything melted away quickly until he found himself standing in Bobby’s silent kitchen.

“Perfect for WHAT, you sneaky sonuvabitch!?”

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and Dean turned to find the swarm of people and angels just as he had left them. Gabriel was grinning so wide and bright it was amazing he hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Dean glared at him.

“What, Gabriel?”

“Did you just call our Father a sneaky son of a bitch… to his _face?_ ”

Dean shrugged one shoulder and the angel squealed in response. 

“This is going to be so awesome! What are we gonna do first, boss? Come on, come on … give me an assignment!”

Before he could say anything in response, Sam slapped on epic bitchface #92 and stepped right up into Dean’s business. 

“Uh… personal space, Sam?”

_And fuck…epic flashback… with all that had changed, that was kinda hilarious right there._

“Dean. I deserve an explanation.”

Shrugging nonchalantly and side-stepping Mount Sam, Dean chugged down the rest of his coffee and spun on his heel to leave the kitchen. 

“What kind of explanation, Sammy? Gabriel’s part of the family now. Woo-hoo! Look at us! We’re the official Brady Bunch of the Heavenly Host. He’s not the youngest, but personally I think that Gabe would look the most adorable with the curls.”

“HEY!”

Dean was honestly shocked when his arm was grabbed painfully and he was flung around to face a very pissed off looking little brother. 

“Don’t make a joke of this, Dean, God dammit! You know exactly what I am talking about! There was a clap of fucking _thunder_ that shook the house when you yelled! What. Is. Going. On.”

Dean rubbed his free hand wearily down his face. 

“Nothing, Sam. It’s nothing. I promise.”

Sam looked like he wasn’t buying it one iota, but released Dean’s arm anyway. 

“I know this is stupid to ask, because you never have before … but you would tell me if something was wrong, right Dean? You would tell me… because you promised me in that damn cabin that you would never leave me again. You _promised._ ”

Sam’s eyes were a little glassy and wounded. It felt like a punch to Dean’s gut. He reached up slowly to grasp the back of Sam’s neck, and then brought his little brother down until they knocked foreheads. 

“I’m not leaving you again, Sam. Never. I swear.”

Sam nodded and sniffed, but didn’t speak. 

“Hey guys? Guys? Guys?”

Dean sighed and moved away from his brother. 

“What, Gabriel?”

The smaller angel shrugged and pointed to the kitchen window. 

“Just thought you might like to know that there’s a house in the backyard.”

Everyone in the kitchen save for Gabriel whipped around to stare out the window. Just visible was the corner of a building that hadn’t been there five minutes previously. The screen door slammed behind him as Dean sprinted out into the salvage yard and skidded to a stop. He could hear everyone else follow him out, but his main focus was on the rustic, two-story log cabin that was somehow squeezed between the towers of cars and scraps. 

“What … the… hell…”

A movement caught his eye, and there, swinging slowly above the entrance to a wraparound porch was a wooden sign with the word _‘Alimony’_ carved into the surface. A shocked laugh wrenched its way from Dean’s throat. 

“Oh, you snarky bastard.”

He trotted in double-time over to the cabin and cautiously stepped up onto the porch. It was absolutely gorgeous. Something he had tucked away in his thoughts ages ago that he would like to have, but knew his lifestyle would never permit. Thick logs of cedar made up the walls of the cabin, stained a rich, beautiful rust color. The trim around the windows and the door were an aged hunter green, and four wooden rocking chairs were lined up on either side. 

Hesitantly, Dean opened the front door and stepped inside. It looked like something straight out of a catalogue. Living room, dining room and kitchen in one big open floor plan with the same cedar walls and floor as the exterior. The furniture was all supple chocolate leather or distressed wood, with a giant stone fireplace in the corner. The kitchen had gleaming stainless steel appliances and honey quartz countertops that glowed with the butter rich light from the hanging lamps above the island bar. 

There was a low, appreciative whistle from behind him before Gabriel’s voice spoke up. 

“Man, oh, man. Pretty swanky. If you got this… I guess Dad got the car and the dogs, huh?”

Dean rolled his eyes but stepped further into the house towards the wrought iron spiral staircase in the back corner. He took the stairs slowly, one by one, to appreciate the amazing scrolling iron work that decorated them. When the second floor came into view he had to chuckle. There was just a short hallway with four doors. Each one bearing a carved wooden sign that matched the one hanging on the porch. _Gabriel, Balthazar, Sam … Dean & Castiel._

Gabriel whooped loudly from behind him and took off towards his door. 

“ME FIRST! ME FIRST!”

Balthazar snorted elegantly as he sauntered over toward his own door. 

“I’m sure you understand that I’m not _actually_ going to stay here. I feel as if I should don some track pants and begin planning for the arrival of the comet.”

Against his better judgment (never wise to admit to Balthazar that you might actually find him humorous) Dean chuckled at the statement as he continued to walk towards the door at the far end of the hallway marked _Dean & Castiel._ Subtle, apparently Chuck was _not_. He could have at least given Cas his own room for appearances sake. He slowly turned the handle and swung open the door. 

A giant king size, rustic oak four poster bed sat dead center in the room. It was piled high with crisp white linens and a thick duvet. Matching oak side tables framed either side, with matching desks separated on the opposite wall. There were two intricately carved, massive oak wardrobes book-ending a long chest of drawers with two mirrors hanging on the wall above it. A large picture window faced east, and was opened to allow a subtle breeze to ripple the white floor length curtains in waves. 

Dean was honestly … flabbergasted. He walked towards the right side of the bed (his usual side) and saw something gleaming on the side table. It was a Platinum credit card with his name on it, and a lime green post-it note that read, _‘to provide for the kids’_ in a messy scrawl. Just then Sam squealed the equivalent of _‘OMG’_ like a big girl from the vicinity of his room … and Dean lost it. 

He collapsed on his new, ridiculously comfortable, bed in a fit of giggles and didn’t stop until his sides were screaming in pain. 

~*~

That night, after they had moved their meager belongings, and Balthazar conceded that he may _possibly_ spend _some_ time in the cabin, Dean sank down into the soft mattress and sighed in contentment. He hadn’t gone into the other angel’s rooms … he didn’t want to pry, but Balthazar’s must have been pretty impressive for him to acquiesce to spending some time with the family. He was too terrified to see what was in Gabriel’s room, especially after hearing the arch-angel cackling with mad glee for half an hour that afternoon. Dean, wisely, stayed away. 

Sam’s room was geeky computer researcher boy paradise. There were shelves and shelves of books, with some workout equipment thrown in, a computer monitor that was clearly compensating for something, and apparently a very impressive laptop. Sam had gotten all googly-eyed and drooly as he muttered about processing speeds and bus-something-or-others … which Dean had just tuned out and wondered if he could sneak in to watch porn on that crazy awesome screen. 

Bobby and Sheriff Mills had seemed way too happy to see them go, even if it was only across the salvage yard. Dean figured they probably wanted to get their freak on. Hard to have happy-fun-times with your two pseudo sons and their pet angels in the next room, he supposed. Cas had been pretty quiet all day long, but Dean had caught him eyeing the credit card on the bedside table, and imagined his angel was fantasizing about all the orange shirts out there just waiting for him to claim them. 

He snuggled down into the fluffy pillows and groaned in satisfaction. 

“This bed is the awesomest thing to ever awesome, Cas.”

The angel made a soft chuffing sound that almost approximated a laugh. 

“I’m serious, Cas. I love this bed. I wish to marry this bed. I will have this beds little downy babies.”

 _That_ earned an outright chuckle from the angel. 

“You have an unhealthy obsession with matrimony to furniture, Dean.”

Dean grinned into the pillow and settled down for sleep. There was one thing he could say with certainty about Chuck … the man knew how to pick a good mattress. The bed dipped beside him as Cas pulled up close to his side, tucking in close and resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. 

“Will you be happy here in this house, Dean? With me?”

Rolling to his side in order to face Castiel, Dean grinned. 

“Of course I will, Cas. Will you?”

The angel nodded. 

“You make me _very_ happy, Dean.”

Cas hummed a pleased little sound before scooting forward to plaster himself up and down Dean’s full length. Chests, bellies, thighs … all pressed tightly together. A little hitch started in Dean’s breath as he leaned forward and offered up his mouth to Castiel. The angel accepted the offer gladly, sucking and licking at Dean’s lips with a calm patience that Dean wasn’t feeling. At all. 

He could feel their stomachs and chests matching each other breath for breath, and then something decidedly … harder… rocking into him further down. It sparked all manner of sensations straight to his crotch, and little Dean decided to come say hello to little Cas. The angel groaned harshly as he thrust his tongue deeply into Dean’s waiting mouth. 

Dean matched the thrusts of Cas’ tongue with the thrusts of his hips, rubbing their erections together through the thin material of their briefs. Castiel’s hands snaked down Dean’s flanks and suddenly reached around to tightly grab the globes of Dean’s ass. Cas growled low in his throat and Dean keened in response, flinging one of his legs over Cas’ to pull their bodies even closer together. 

Soon, they weren’t even kissing … it was more like they were panting into each other’s open mouths as Dean sped up the thrusts of his hips and Cas used his grip on Dean’s ass to pull him through each one. The crazy sexy noises that kept falling from the angel’s lips had Dean answering him with soft whimpers and moans. Finally, Cas shifted one of his hands from Dean’s ass and trailed it down until it was skimming across their covered dicks and cupping Dean’s balls through his shorts. 

Dean came like a fucking rocket. From the muffled noises he could make out… Cas followed soon after. The rocking of their hips slowed as their gasping breathes continued to move their bellies in sync. Castiel pulled back to stare into Dean’s eyes, a completely mind-blown look on his face. Dean laughed breathlessly. 

“First orgasm, Cas?”

The angel nodded, then brought up a hand to trace his index finger along the edges of Dean’s swollen lips. 

“Worth it?”

The blue eyes widened a fraction as Castiel nodded again in response. His finger continued to trace over Dean’s features reverently. Post-orgasm sleepiness hit Dean like a freight train and his eyes began to droop closed. Cas’ fingers brushed over them once they did before he gathered Dean close to him and settled down for sleep. 

Cas’ whispered ‘ _I love you’_ banished any thoughts of getting up to clean off. Dean would just deal with the sticky aftermath in the morning. Right now… nothing could move him. 

~*~

The next sunrise found Sam and Dean sitting at their new breakfast bar nursing black coffees and silently watching as Gabriel attempted to fry some eggs. It was fairly entertaining to watch. Dean had never known that eggs could become quite that color of burnt. 

“Soooo….did you have a good time last night?”

Dean’s gaze snapped up to stare at Sam in disbelief.

“Are we really going to talk about this?”

He shot a glance over to Gabriel, but the angel was too focused on a new pair of eggs. They didn’t look much better than the last pair. Sam sighed and brushed his long bangs out of his face. 

“I just want you and Cas to be happy. He was worried that you didn’t want him.”

Dean groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 

“Sam… like I already told Cas … I do want him, I do … it’s just…”

His little brother’s face was beet red, but he was still trudging through the horrifying conversation. 

“Just what?”

Dean rubbed at his face with both hands before pressing his fingers into his closed eyes and groaning.

“It’s just… bad things happen to people who want to fuck angels, right? Look at the Bible.”

Sam laughed with nervous discomfort, flicking a glance to the oblivious Gabriel … who was now trying to smack-talk the eggs into submission. 

“Well… okay … so … so maybe you should … I mean … instead of … you could …”

The elder Winchester smirked evilly. 

“Why, Sammy … are you trying to advise me to be the catcher and not the pitcher?”

Sam’s face went outright purple as he sputtered.

“Well, it would-that way-OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME HAVE THIS CONVERSATION?”

The recognizable splat of a delicate egg meeting hard floor made them both turn towards Gabriel. The angel arched an eyebrow at them in curiosity, but then snapped his fingers to clean the mess and turned back to attempt set number three. 

Dean chuckled darkly and pointed an accusing finger at his little brother. 

“You started it, bitch.”

Sam muttered a _‘jerk’_ under his breath before he spun back around to watch Gabriel. 

Eventually Gabriel cursed and snapped his fingers, road kill eggs disappearing in a flash to be replaced by a massive spread of choices from a local fast food chain. 

“Bon Appetite!”

Sam snorted, but tucked quickly into the food anyway. As Dean made to grab one of the greasy breakfast sandwiches … something gave him pause. There was a sick feeling deep in his gut, as if he swallowed a lead ball and it was rolling around his intestines. Something was very, very wrong … and he didn’t like it. His empty hand dropped to the countertop as he concentrated on the sensation. Gabriel gave him a critical look before rounding the corner to step up beside Dean. 

“What’s wrong? What do you feel?”

Sam’s breakfast slapped down onto the table as he spun to face Dean, but he remained silent and waiting for his brother to answer the arch-angel. Dean shook his head as he furrowed his eyebrows. He knew something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was a dark and oily-slick sensation, not unlike Crowley’s, but obviously different. Someone was suffering, though … someone was in pain. 

“Gabe.”

The arch-angel gripped Dean roughly on the shoulder and shook him, just slightly. 

“Just lead me there, and I’ll take care of it.”

Dean nodded and tried to imagine painting a line between himself and the distinct feeling of darkness. After a few seconds Gabriel nodded in return and disappeared in a flash. There were approximately two seconds of silence in the room before he snapped back into existence with a grim expression on his face. 

“About twenty demons attacking a fairly small town … not too far from here. I can take them by myself … what do you want me to do?”

Dean grimaced … but he really had no choice in the matter. 

“Take them out … try and save the vessels if you can.”

Gabriel smirked at him. 

“Meat grind the demons, safety wrap the sock puppets. Gotcha!”

And then he was gone again. Dean felt the stirrings of a massive headache and rubbed absently against his temples with not-so-steady fingers. The warm touch of his brother’s hand against his shoulder startled him somewhat. Dean had honestly forgotten that Sam was still there, his voice deep and filled with concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dean?”

The elder Winchester nodded and attempted to smile up at his brother with as much encouragement that he could offer. 

“It’s not so big a deal, Sammy. The big cheese had warned me when I was remade with his Grace that there was every chance I would feel or see or sense things differently than before. That’s what’s been going on … I’m just adjusting to the changes. Okay?”

Sam nodded and went back to eat his breakfast. Five minutes later Gabriel popped back into existence with a shit-eating smile on his face and his clothes covered in a mixture of foul-smelling sulfur and iron-rich blood. 

“There’s more of them now … it’s a great ball of laughs, but could you possibly call the cavalry and get me some help, please?”

Then he was instantly gone. 

Dean chuckled darkly and sent a little _‘pull’_ of a request to Balthazar and Cas … who were off doing god-knows-what. Without even thinking, he _‘pushed’_ them towards Gabriel’s location with hopefully clear instructions to assist, and not to string up their brother like a wee angel piñata and swing him from the trees. It was only a handful of seconds before he could sense his three angels reuniting at the town under siege. The pulses of their power as they exorcised the demons sent shivers up his spine.

It was all getting to be a bit much. How the hell was he supposed to live like this? In charge of three otherworldly creatures that could snap him like a twig if they really wanted to, with the King of Hell on his radar for some unknown reason, and God stopping by for house calls in his boxers and housecoat. For fuck’s sake… his life used to be pretty simple. Kill bad things, listen to Dad, protect Sammy. Where had that gone?

Somewhere with yellow-eyed demons, and Dad’s sacrifice and Sam being the meat suit for Lucifer himself. Angels were real, Cain and Abel were apparently their ancestors, and Dean possessed some of the powers usually reserved for the All-Mighty. 

Seriously. 

_What._

_The._

_Fuck._

He started to giggle just barely under his breath. Then he glanced up at Sam’s stunned and worried face, and the giggles burst into peals of laughter that put stitches in his sides and made it hard to breathe. 

_Dean Winchester…this is your life. I mean… holy shit. Literally. HOLY shit._

There were tears streaming down his face by the time he felt the angels arrive back into the cabin. No one spoke, it was pretty clear they were worried about his sanity, but then … so was he. Castiel’s warm hands slowly moved to grip his shaking shoulders, and then with a flutter of wings, they were in their bedroom and Dean was collapsing onto the mattress. He rolled over to jam his face into the pillow and howled with manic laughter. 

Cas silently lay down next to him and plastered himself to Dean’s side, his long fingers traced soothing patterns along Dean’s heaving back. Eventually, Dean panicked himself out and the breakdown subsided. He sniffed into the pillow, but refused to turn and meet Cas’ gaze. He’s made a fool of himself and Sam was probably worried sick. 

“Do you feel a little better now?”

The angels whispered words were close enough that the puffs of air released with them washed over the back of Dean’s neck. He shook his head in denial and Cas sighed. 

“Father has asked too much of you. I wish it wasn’t so … but I am happy to be able to stay by your side. So I cannot be too judgmental of his choices.”

Dean finally turned his head on the pillow so that he could meet Cas’ solemn blue gaze. 

“I just wish I knew what he wanted from me. Why would he give me three angels? What does that _mean?_ ”

Cas pursed his lips, and then reached up to trail his fingertips along Dean’s jaw and up into his hair. 

“He must have told you _something_ of his plans?”

Dean sniffed again. His eyes threatened to flutter closed as Cas’s fingers began to trace the swirls of his ear and then trek down the curve of his neck. 

“He just said to do with you what I wanted. To find a purpose. Go back into hunting things, I guess. But it’s a little much for me, Cas. I’m just a stupid high-school drop out with a glaring lack of self preservation. I’m not really worth anything.”

The angel’s fingers stilled for a moment before he moved his hand to place it in the middle of Dean’s back, directly over where his heart would be on the other side of his spine. 

“To me and Sam and Bobby … you are worth _everything._ ”

Dean slid his gaze away in embarrassment. 

“And Balthazar and Gabriel? What do I have to offer _them?_ ”

Cas tutted a little under his breath. 

“Balthazar will almost always be in it for himself. This is no different. It was either go back to the Heavenly Hosts and be forced to constantly prove himself worthy of existence, or come to you. Who already knows his faults and accepts him, even with them. You won’t judge him or ask him to do anything that you would not do yourself. He knows this… and I think it has earned you his begrudging respect. So he will be loyal, and he will find purpose in whatever you wish him to do.”

Dean considered his words for a moment, and had to admit the truth of them. Balthazar had helped them previously, even when he hadn’t really wanted to. 

“And Gabriel?”

Cas smiled softly. 

“I think Gabriel is just very happy to be alive again. He has always been fonder of Earth than of Heaven, and I think the choice wasn’t even really a choice for him. Be stuck in Heaven and forced to make amends for his desertion … or be stuck down here and be bound to answer to you. I am sure he didn’t even think about it. He seemed pretty fond of you and your brother anyway.”

Dean snorted. 

“FOND? He killed me, like … a hundred times! And mentally scarred Sam for life, I think.”

The angel smiled again before slowly rolling over onto his back. 

“What is it you call that … pigtail pulling? If he didn’t like you, he would not have even bothered to make himself known to you. In his own way he was trying to help you out. Teach you a lesson. Gabriel’s just never been particularly good with subtly.”

Laughing, Dean rolled over to mirror Castiel’s position on his back, side by side in the middle of the massive bed. 

“That’s called an understatement, Cas.”

The angel nodded solemnly, but his eyes were sparkling with humor. 

“Have you ever thought about how powerful a statement _you_ are, Dean?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at the angel in confusion. 

“I don’t get what you’re saying. A statement?”

Cas nodded, but held Dean’s gaze steady. 

“Think of what you are, Dean. You were just a boy who became a hunter… and then you shook the very foundations of Heaven and Hell itself. You sacrificed yourself for your brother and were sent to be tortured and broken in the pit, but you rose again. You have stopped the Apocalypse, bested Death more times than I really care to count, and helped to send Lucifer himself back into his cage. You have faced off against the Four Horsemen, tangled with the Mother of all Evil, and were trusted enough by the Creator to become the Hand of God.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder and fought his blush. 

“When you say that … it sounds so impressive.”

Castiel sucked in a sharp breath and then quickly spun himself until he was lying partially over Dean, chest to chest, and was gripping the human’s head between his elegant hands. 

“You ARE impressive, Dean! Do you not realize that your determination and character, alone, converted three of God’s angels to your side? We chose _you_ … over our own Beloved Father. You! This event is unheard of. It will be written about for millennia… and your accomplishments will be sung of in praise forever. Please never doubt how amazing you are. Please never doubt that you are worth all of this. That you are worth everything.”

He could do nothing but just stare into the angel’s eyes and nod slightly. Having someone like Cas commend him so emotionally made him nervous. Dean licked at his lips at his discomfort of being praised. Castiel’s gaze instantly shot down to follow the motion, and the charged energy of the atmosphere shifted. 

“You are amazing, Dean. Everything about you is … stunning.”

And then Cas’ lips were crashing to his, and Dean gasped in shocked delight. He wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist as he was kissed to within an inch of his life. Castiel was humming little pleasurable sounds into their joined mouths even as his tongue battled with Dean’s. He arched his back wantonly to feel the press of the angel’s weight against him, reveling in the friction it created. Wrenching his mouth away, Dean pressed his head back until his throat was exposed to Cas. The angel immediately bent to mouth at his jugular, sucking little marks into the skin. 

From nowhere the dark, oily sense of demons lanced through Dean’s nerves and he froze. Cas stilled above him and was just opening his mouth to speak when there was a polite knock on the bedroom door. 

“Mom? Dad? Hope you’ve got your pants on, kiddos… cuz it’s going down again.”

There was a tenseness laced with the humor of Gabriel’s words and Dean sighed as the frantic desire that had been rolling through his system abated. Cas had already rolled up and off the bed by the time Dean sat up. 

“Didn’t you guys take care of the demons in the town?”

The words were not accusatory, more confused, and Castiel responded with a nod. 

“Yes. We sent them all back to Hell … this must be something new.”

Dean sighed heavily as he lifted himself from the bed and made his way to the door. Gabriel stood on the other side impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, but still managed to leer a little when Dean opened the door. 

“Same town?”

Gabriel shook his head as he turned to lead them down the hallway to the first floor. 

“Nope. Different one. Closer to us, though … so that’s probably not good.”

“Did the demons say anything to you before?”

He could feel Castiel tense behind him, but obviously Gabriel had no such qualms about reporting anything and everything to Dean. 

“They kept asking where our Godling was, but that was it.”

As they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase Sam jumped up from where he had been seated next to Balthazar, going over something on his laptop. 

“Dean! This town is twenty miles closer to us than the last. Balthazar was able to sense it as soon as the demons arrived. He said they’re getting stronger.”

“I believe that my _actual_ words were _‘Hell is starting to send out the bigger guns’_.”

Dean grunted as he plopped down on one of the barstools. 

“So they’re getting closer. I’m going to assume, with our string of luck, that means they’re heading right for us. Or trying to lure us out to fight.”

Sam nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I think we would all be in agreement there. What do you think we should do?”

Dean blinked at his brother a couple times in disbelief. Sam was always one to immediately make his opinion known, and for even him to defer to Dean’s control was disconcerting. He needed an equal in this. He needed his little brother to stand up to him and deflect his careless responses with more calculated ones. 

“What do _you_ think we should do, Sam?”

His little brother gave him an oddly dissecting look before he dropped his hands to brace on his hips. 

“I would get the angels to strengthen our sigils and borders around the salvage yard, and then go out to the new town… see if they can help the people. I’d like to go, too. Try and do a little reconnaissance and figure out what the demons are after.”

Dean stood and clapped his hands together once, loudly.

“Awesome! Sounds like a plan, let’s get going-”

“NO!”

The echo of four voices speaking in unison reverberated off the walls and froze Dean in shock.

“What do you mean NO? I’m going too!”

Sam shook his head as Gabriel pushed Dean back into the barstool.

“Sorry, little amigo … but you’re staying here.”

Dean slapped the smaller angel’s hands away and stood back up. 

“Bullshit! If Sam’s going, then so am I.”

Balthazar clucked in annoyance as he pretended to dust lint off his dark gray shirt. 

“Sorry, darling, but no. All the demons in the last town would do was taunt us about you and ask where you were.”

Sam stepped forward. 

“That means they’re trying to lure you out for some reason, Dean. Going into that town is exactly what they want.”

Even if he had to admit the legitimacy of Sam’s words, it still rankled. 

“So I’m just supposed to send my little brother and my … my angels out there, instead? What if that’s the plan, huh? Snag one of you to force my hand and meet with Crowley again?”

Right after he said the words, Dean realized his mistake. He hadn’t told any of them about the conversation with the new King of Hell. Castiel was instantly whipping Dean around by his shoulders and glaring at him with a sparking ferocity. The other three were just staring at him in shock. 

“What do you mean _again,_ Dean? When did you meet with him before?”

Dean glanced down at his feet and refused to answer. Castiel suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. 

“That night… the other night when we thought we felt something, but you said it was nothing. Crowley was _here_ , wasn’t he?”

Dean remained silent, even knowing that would show the truth behind the accusation. Sam practically screeched right next to him. 

“He was HERE? Dean! You spoke to him ALONE? What were you _thinking?_ ”

Finally, he lost his composure and shoved away from them all. 

“Nothing happened! He was just talking shit and being his usual jackass self! Now don’t you think you should get going? The sigils need to be strengthened, and there’s a town to save.”

With those words, Dean stalked out of the house and made his way to Bobby’s. If he was going to be left behind like a sheltered child, then he was going to do it in good company and a little alcohol. Bobby didn’t say a word as Dean slammed down into the chair next to him and reached for his ever-present flask. He could feel the angels check on the sigils and then depart, most likely with Sam in tow, and he scowled. 

“That’s a mighty pissy look for a grown man.”

Dean grunted and took another deep swallow of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat. 

“There was another attack. They’ve gone off with Sam and I’m supposed to stay here on my tuffet and crochet doilies.”

Bobby snickered as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Can’t really blame them, can you? Especially Sam and Cas … they just got you back, after all.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder but didn’t respond to the older man’s words. 

“They’re protecting you. It’s their job.”

Now _that_ brought forth a response. 

“Who says it’s their job? I can protect myself.”

The other hunter sighed and rubbed a hand down his whiskered face. 

“Look, son … I ain’t no idjit. There’s more going on with you right now than you’re wanting to share, and I get that. Hell… I appreciate the fact that the cracks in my ceiling keep disappearing, and the paint on the walls keeps getting brighter, I do. If nothing else, Jodie loves you for it. But you got to realize… it ain’t normal. You’re in charge of angels and on speaking terms with God, and you can physically change the things around you. You aren’t _normal_ anymore, Dean. You’re special.”

Dean sneered, but Bobby just continued.

“Your BFF God has assigned those angels to protect you. And to some extent, me and Sam and everyone you care about. That means he has big plans for you, and he doesn’t want you to do something _stupid_ like getting blown up before those plans come to fruition.”

Kicking his feet up on the desk, Dean took another pull from the flask.

“I’ve had Gods and Demons have _‘plans’_ for me before. They never seemed to have my best interests in mind.”

Bobby grunted and reached for the flask, swiping it out of Dean’s grasp. 

“Are you sure? You’re still _here_ , ain’t ya?”

Conceding the point, Dean dropped his head backwards to stare at the ceiling. Immediately upon his observation, the cracks and water stains began to seal and disappear. Dean sighed as Bobby chuckled. 

“If you ever feel like going out to the garage… it could use a good scrub down.”

Dean rolled his eyes. 

~*~

It continued that way for the next three days. The angels would go out and stop an attack on one town, and the next thing they knew, there would be a new attack with new demons closer to the salvage yard than the last had been. In each town the demons would heckle his angels about their Godling and demand to see him. Sam would sneak through where he could and try to catch snippets of conversation here and there, but it wasn’t really providing anything substantial. 

No one had questioned him about Crowley again, but Dean could sense Castiel’s disappointment with him. He would come to bed and manage to stay half a meter away from Dean at all times. Then he would be gone before Dean even woke up in the morning. He could tell everyone was upset with him, even Bobby after Sam had gone and tattled to him. It was starting to wear him down. 

The most recent demon attack was only thirty miles away from the yard. It had been significantly more vicious right from the onset, and even Bobby and Sheriff Mills had gone to help out, calling in as many hunters as they could muster. So Dean was sitting on his front porch. Alone. Feeling the epic battle rage not that far away. For him. _Because_ of him. 

He was on his fifth beer. 

He was pissed off. 

An oily grease-slick prodded at him from the opposite direction of the battle and he froze, lip of the bottle hovering near his mouth. That was Crowley, he would bet money on it. It wasn’t a battle, or an army. It was a jaunty little _‘yoo-hoo I’m over here’_. Dean took another swallow of his beer and tried to ignore it, but then the prod was back again. This time with an echo of _‘are you too cowardly to come by yourself’_ mixed in. 

Dean dropped the half full bottle to the ground and spat in disgust. So this was the plan all along. Keep all of his allies busy, and then poke his pride until Dean ventured out of safety by himself to meet with the demon. And fuck it if it wasn’t working. He was so frustrated and pissed off by the last several days; it would be nice to finally find out just what the hell the bastard wanted, anyway. 

He stood up and stomped his way into this house and up to his bedroom. He had been lounging in sweats and a tank top, but he quickly traded them out for some jeans and a faded black t-shirt. Sam had taken Ruby’s old knife, and Dean didn’t really have anything else to kill a demon with, so he shrugged and figured he would go unarmed. Why the Hell not? He’d protected himself from Crowley before. When he reached for his boots in the corner, Dean paused. He found himself staring at the spot next to them were Castiel always left his hideous orange sneakers. Taking a deep breath, Dean stood without retrieving his shoes. He had taken to going around barefoot most days now. Feeling the power of the earth snake up through his toes to remind him it was there. 

_Right._

The not-so-friendly prod of demon stank hit him again when he exited the house and stood in the middle of the salvage yard. He ignored it in favor of sending a little pulse of power to his angels. A silent question on the state of things. Balthazar slapped him away in irritation, but confirmed that he was fine. Gabriel poked him right back with glee and showed him a flash of the arch-angel protecting Bobby and Mills. Castiel ignored him until Dean poked a little harder. His angel sent back the acknowledgement that he was fine, but busy at the moment keeping Sam from getting himself killed. Dean sent a light little _‘welcome to my world’_ back, but wasn’t answered. 

Finally, Dean disengaged from his angels and turned back to the grease-stain that was Crowley. He could tell the demon wasn’t too far, maybe ten miles away. Dean took a deep breath and concentrated. If he could do all these other things, there was nothing to say he could zip over there instantly like the angels. He had done it once before, when he had followed Balthazar’s path back to the cabin after Chuck had remade him. 

Focusing on the nasty sensation that was Crowley, Dean closed his eyes and imagined himself following the line that lead him towards the demon. 

“Well, well, well … someone’s learning some new tricks, aren’t they?”

Dean opened his eyes quickly and found himself at a broken down crossroads, asphalt long ago washed away and no standing buildings for miles. Crowley stood in the middle with his hands clasped behind his back and a smug grin on his face. 

“Hello, darling.”

Dean took a step to the side and tried not to grimace as the gravel bit into his bare feet. 

“So what’s all this about, Crowley? Why all the attacks? What are you even trying to accomplish here?”

The demon smirked. 

“Accomplish? Sweetheart, you wound me … I just wanted you to come out and play for a bit … but you kept ignoring me. Breaks a girl’s heart.”

Dean laughed without humor before folding his arms over his chest. 

“Play? Why would I want to play with you?”

Crowley tsked dramatically and moved to start circling Dean, who reacted by turning in place to keep the demon within his sights at all times. 

“Come now, my love. To prepare for our bright future, of course. A warm up act, if you will … for the new King of Hell and the soon to be new King of Heaven.”

Dean’s arms fell away limply in shock. Crowley cackled at him. 

“Don’t tell me you never guessed what was going on here, Dean. You didn’t honestly think that Daddy Dearest would just give you powers and angels and let you run free forever, did you?”

Suddenly a barrage of rocks flung themselves from the ground towards Dean’s face. Instantly, Dean swiped his left arm to the side and the rocks seemed to ricochet off nothing and fall in the opposite direction. 

“You’re fucking with me, Crowley, and I don’t appreciate it.”

A tree limb nearby snapped from its branch and launched itself towards Dean’s chest like a spear. Dean gripped his hands into fists and the branch exploded into sawdust and drifted away on the breeze. 

“I’m deadly serious, pumpkin. The Creator left Heaven ages ago, with no intention to return … and yet suddenly he shows back up again to set everything back to rights? It’s fairly obvious what he’s doing.”

A gale of wind burst forth from nowhere and tried to knock Dean off of his feet. With a flick of his head it turned to a gentle puff and dissipated. 

“What what would that be?”

A giant boulder jumped into the air from the side of the road and dove straight for Dean’s head. Without a single movement, he stopped it in midair and let it hang ominously above them. 

“Why … he’s preparing the school for a new principal, of course.”

Without warning, a dozen demons sprang up from nowhere to circle them at the edges of the crossroads.

“And so … I am here to establish our relationship right away. The light and the dark. It’s Yin and Yang, Dean darling … but I just wanted to make sure you understood something.”

Dean flung the boulder at two of the demons standing by and grinned when they yelped and dove for cover. 

“Well, get it over with, then.”

Crowley smiled wide and deep as he took a step back. 

“That I will not bow down to you. You will let me do my business and you will stay out of my hair. I wouldn’t want to destroy daddy’s pet project before you ever get the chance to claim your throne.”

Dean laughed. 

“You want me to leave you alone? Fat chance, you dick, you just insured yourself that I will do everything I can to make your life fucking miserable.”

Crowley continued to step away, as a dozen more demons appeared and slowly began to walk towards Dean. 

“Such a shame then, love … guess we’ll just have to kill you now. I will so miss our little get-togethers.”

The two closest demons to Dean launched themselves at him. He feinted to the left, punched the first one hard in the gut, and brought his hand up to smack his palm dead center on the other’s forehead. Trusting his powers to know what to do, he was rewarded with a brilliant flash of white as the demon was exorcised and the vessel fell unconscious to the ground. With a roar of anger, the rest of the demons attacked. 

He was holding his own pretty well. They kept crowding him in, and he would take a punch or kick here and there, but he was still managing to exorcise two for every three that attacked him. Dozens and dozens kept appearing from thin air, and all the while Crowley was sitting nonchalantly on top of the boulder that Dean had thrown before. It was a fucking demon swarm, and Dean wondered if that meant the attack on the town had been called off. 

Trying to keep his concentration on the battle at hand, Dean sent a pulse off to his angels. He could sense that they were still occupied with the demons in the town, but it seemed to be winding down. There was a spike of adrenalin from all three, and he guessed they could sense the gathering storm of demons nearby to where they thought Dean was safe in the salvage yard. 

A particularly large demon got a hard crack of a punch right into Dean’s ribs and he cried out in pain. He could feel his power build in response to the stimuli and let it explode out in a giant sweep of white light. The demons were flung back all around him and skidded outward to the edges of the crossroads. Dean gasped and dropped down to his knees. 

There was a frantic call from his angels in his mind, Cas’ the most anxious. They couldn’t find him. Crowley must have blocked the crossroads from their sight, and they had returned to the house to find Dean gone. The demons around him began to pick themselves back up and gather round. There had to be near a hundred now, not even counting the ones he had already taken care of. In the moment of calm Dean tried to transport himself back to the yard … but he was stuck. Crowley appeared to have taken care of that, too. 

Dean growled deep in his throat and struggled up to his feet. Cas was frantically pawing at his mind, so Dean responded with a simple _‘love you, love you, love you, Cas’_ which seemed to set the angel even more to fits. 

_Ah well… if I manage to get out of this, I’ll make it up to him._

Crowley cleared his throat and the demons all froze. 

“Last chance, Dean, sweetheart. You just have to concede.”

Dean spit some blood onto the ground and sneered at the pompous asshole. 

“Fuck you, Crowley.”

The King of Hell shrugged and sighed dramatically.

“Oh well… I tried. Kill him. Make it … messy.”

The demons surged forward again and Dean centered himself. As his body moved from years of ingrained reflexes, his mind was tumbling at a thousand miles per hour. He had to think. He had to think. His angels couldn’t get to him, and he couldn’t leave. Surely, if Chuck was really preparing him to take over … the little shit would have come to rescue him already, wouldn’t he? Unless. 

_Unless he knew that Dean had the power to do it himself._

He gritted his teeth as one of the demons got a lucky hit to the side of his head. He could feel the skin split and begin to bleed down his face. _Well… that just pissed him off._ Dean raised one foot off the ground, and calling to whatever source his power emanated from, he stomped it down hard in the middle of the crossroads. There was a resounding _BOOM_ as the ground around him rippled out like water, sending demons flying everywhere and knocking a stunned Crowley off his perch. 

Dean opened his mouth to scream out in anger, but instead a deafening roar split the air with enough force to bend back the trees at the edges of the road. Several demons screeched in pain and covered their ears before evacuating their vessels in a blast of black smoke. Crowley blinked at him once before he smirked and vanished into the night. 

There were still dozens of demons around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt his angels get a lock on him from the burst of power. He felt them arrive with Sam and Bobby in tow. But he was still so angry that he couldn’t stop. Dean swiped his arm towards the demons before him and a shockwave of power knocked them all down, black clouds of smoke filling the sky as more and more attempted to escape. 

He screamed his rage again and watched as the force of it blew the demons straight out of their vessels. Bright sparks of electricity were flickering around his face, but he wasn’t sure where they were coming from. Demons were escaping left and right, but Dean was staring at the asshole who had punched him in the gut earlier. It was a giant fuck of a man with skin as pale as a corpse. Dean stalked right up to the demon and smacked his palm straight onto his face. In an explosion of white light the demon was dead, and suddenly the area around him was completely silent. 

Dean was taking in huge gulps of air as he spun in a circle to look at all the poor bastards scattered about the crossroads. When he turned towards the edge of the woods, he was almost surprised to find Cas and the others standing there. He had forgotten about their arrival. Five pairs of wide eyes stared at him as he took a step towards them, but then his knees buckled and he went down. 

“DEAN!”

Sam skidded to a stop before him and dropped instantly to his knees. Dean released a weary sigh as his little brother’s large hands frantically searched him for injuries. Bobby followed closely behind, but the three angels were still standing at the edge of the road, looking uncomfortable. 

He felt completely drained. The power was receding from his body, and little black dots were starting to float across his vision. 

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Stay with me, Dean! Come on! Stay-”

But everything faded to black as he slipped forward into his brother’s arms. 

~*~

There was a mumbled conversation going on around him when Dean started to flirt with consciousness. He could recognize the comfort of his own bed, and the snuffling sound of Sammy snoring right next to him. The voices of his angels were further away in the room, but he could still make out what they were saying. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cas! You saw that as well as we did. You KNOW what that was!”

“Agreed. That was a halo, Castiel. That was a halo of the Chosen.”

“It’s not possible. Father just returned.”

“Yeah, well … apparently Daddy isn’t planning on _staying_.”

“He promised Dean a long life here. He promised him peace.”

“Yeah, and Pops _always_ keeps his promises, doesn’t he, Cas?”

“There’s nothing to say he won’t have a long life here, brother. A long life for Dean would be a mere blink for our Father. There’s nothing to say he won’t keep his promise.”

“Yeah, except that he obviously didn’t tell Dean-o about the giant target now painted on his back.”

“That’s why we’re here, though, isn’t it? Take make sure he survives to claim the throne? Obviously that’s what the Father wants from us.”

“And when Dean dies? He’ll be unattainable to me. The King of Heaven cannot consort with an angel from the garrison.”

Silence answered Cas’ question and Dean felt his heart stutter and clench. Pulling from a reserve hidden deep, he sent a demand Heavenward for Chuck to meet. When he opened his eyes the room was whited-out and the smaller man was seated Indian-style in the middle of the bed. He looked guilty.

“Hi, Dean.”

Dean sat up slowly and crossed his arms. 

“The truth.”

Chuck sighed and began to fiddle with the frayed edges of his house coat. 

“The truth. Alright … I suppose you do deserve it. Nice job with those demons by the way.”

Dean clenched his jaw and Chuck gave him a small smile. 

“The truth is … I didn’t want to come back. I never did … but it had gotten so out of control… I had to do something. When I came up with the idea of using you as the Hand of God I figured it would be a fitting way to honor you and everything you and your brother had done for me. No human had ever been chosen before, you see, so that meant your name would be written in the annuals of Heaven as something to respect and revere.

Then… when I sat there re-making you with my Grace and lamenting the fact that I had to come back to Heaven and take it all over again … I thought, _But I don’t have to actually stay there._ I could set everything to rights and create a clean start for someone new. Then of course came the question of who I could bequeath it to… one of the angels? That couldn’t work. You see what happened to them when I left them in charge. 

So it would have to be a human. But what human did I know that not only understood how corrupted the Heavenly Host had become, but had already garnered the loyalty of three of my most stubborn children?”

Dean shifted anxiously on the white bed.

“Chuck-,”

“What human did I know that had an unfailing loyalty to his friends and family? Who was kind and just, but had enough street smarts to see past people’s bullshit. A human with a wicked sense of humor and playfulness on one hand… but a world weary soul that understood pain and suffering on the other. One that would sacrifice his own soul for his little brother. Or go up against angels… ANGELS… because he knew that what they were doing was wrong.

My goodness, I thought … I have the perfect candidate right here beneath my fingertips. And you are, Dean. You’re perfect to take my place. The Heavenly Host doesn’t need old school anymore. It needs someone to change them from their old ways and acclimate them to how the world really is now. Look at Castiel. It’s a perfect example. _You_ are what they need. Not me.”

Having God praise so many things about your person tends to make a man a little uncomfortable. 

“What about what-”

“Don’t worry about what your boys were saying.”

Chuck scooted closer and rested his hands on Dean’s shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t separate you from each other. The power of your bond has saved the world… it would be a travesty, and very cruel of me, to destroy that. Castiel, along with Balthazar and Gabriel, will be your arch-angel. You're second in command. No one would dare speak against you if you … consorted with him.”

Dean released a soft chuckle before turning his gaze away from Chuck’s.

“What about… you know… I mean… in the Bible it was pretty frowned upon to want to sodomize an angel.”

He could feel his cheeks flushing as he spoke, more so when Chuck burst into laughter.

“Old school, Dean. I told you. That was old school. Time for some new ideas to be passed around.”

Dean grinned. 

“Can I change the Bible to Adam and Steve?”

Chuck roared with laughter and slapped him on the shoulder. 

“As fun as that would be … no. But I’m sure you’ll figure out something to do that would be just as good.”

Sensing the conversation drawing to a close, Dean sobered. 

“How long do I have?”

Hopping to his feet, Chuck waved a dismissive hand at him. 

“Decades yet… decades. Don’t worry about it for a while. I promise that I’ll give you a heads up, okay? And for the record… I was always planning to tell you… I just didn’t know when would be the best time.”

Dean moved off the bed to stand beside Chuck and shrugged. 

“Crowley made you play your hand too soon.”

Chuck nodded. 

“Yeah. Slimy little bastard. He’ll give you trouble, but I have every confidence in you and your ability to take care of him. If it gets too desperate… I’ll be there.”

Color slowly began to sink back into the world as Chuck dissolved in front of Dean’s eyes. 

“Bye, Dean.”

“See ya, Chuck.”

When the world faded back into focus, Dean was standing in his room surrounded by everyone. Even Jodie was there. He blinked a couple times at the absolutely stunned face of Sam right in front of him. His brother sat there like a guppy-mouth for a few seconds before he finally got out his big boy words. 

“Did … did you just say _Chuck?_ ”

Dean’s eyes widened. _Whaddaya know… he DID._ Usually Chuck wouldn’t let the name past his lips, even if he tried to say it out loud. Only in the white space could he address him by that handle. Looks like all current events considered… the Big Man had lightened up on his rules. Dean smirked at Sam. 

“I do believe I did… didn’t I?”

Sam gaped. Bobby gaped. Castiel (as much as he could) gaped. Then Sammy screeched again. 

“CHUCK? CHUCK SHURLEY?? CHUCK SHURLEY WAS GOD??? BUT HE WAS RIGHT THERE THE WHOLE TIME! WHY DIDN’T HE STOP IT? WHY DIDN’T HE-OW!”

Sam had clutched his side suddenly and Dean cackled. 

“Feel like someone just jabbed you in the ribs?”

Sam’s eyes were super wide when he nodded. Dean patted him consolingly on the arm. 

“Sammy… meet Chuck… _again_.”

He turned to face Castiel and allowed himself to just fall into the angel. Cas’ arms immediately came up to circle his waist and hug him close. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Cas. It’s all gonna be okay. Promise.”

Dean could feel the angel nod against him, and he burrowed closer into that warmth. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaand it’s time for us to go. Come on, kiddos! Now that Mommy’s feeling better … Mommy and Daddy need their special happy fun times!”

As Gabriel ushered humans and angel out of the room and shut the door, Dean giggled a little deliriously into Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Do you want to have happy fun times, Cas?”

The arms encircling him clenched slightly. 

“I always wish to have happy fun times with you, Dean.”

Dean sighed and pulled away to stare into his angel’s gaze. 

“Are you upset with me, Cas?”

The look in the angel’s eyes softened and a small smile graced his lips. 

“No, Dean. I was never upset. I was just … afraid.”

“Afraid of me?”

Cas shook his head slowly. 

“No. Afraid that … that if you were what Gabriel _thought_ you were… I would not be enough for you.”

Dean reached down to grasp Castiel’s hand and tugged him towards the bed. They sat down next to each other on the edge and Dean took a deep calming breath. 

“I am what Gabriel thought. I am. Chuck wants me to take over as the King of Heaven once my time on earth is done.”

The angel’s mouth dropped silently open and his gaze darted up to the empty space above the crown of Dean’s head. 

“So … it was the mark of the Chosen.”

Dean pursed his lips, but fought the urge to look up above him. 

“What did you see, Cas?”

Cas returned his gaze to Dean’s, eyes wide with disbelief.

“It was a halo, Dean. When you released all that power … a halo made of fire and lightening. All the Heavenly Hosts know of it. That it will appear upon the crown of God’s successor … but … there has never been a successor. Until … now.”

Dean shrugged and smirked a tiny fraction. 

“What can I say, Cas? I just keep getting more and more bad-ass.”

Castiel laughed outright and it was a beautiful sound to Dean’s ears. 

“That would be very presumptuous of you, Dean.”

Dean slowly stood and stripped off his shirt. 

“Naw. What would be presumptuous of me would be to strip bare so you could fuck me into the mattress.”

The angel’s pupils blew wide at the words, and he was quickly on his feet as well. He stripped off his precious clothes with little care and flung them across the room. Dean laughed when Cas finished before him and started tugging at Dean’s pants to help him along. When they were both naked, Dean crawled onto the bed first, leaving his ass to Cas’ gaze as he fumbled in the drawer looking for lube. 

The mattress shifted behind him a second before Castiel’s hands came to rest on his lower back, and then gently trail down across his cheeks and upper thighs. Dean hitched in a breath as he grabbed the tube he’d been looking for and then twisted around to lay on his back with Cas hovering over him. The angel slotted his body between Dean’s legs and carefully came to a rest on top of him, their hardening cocks pressing together deliciously. 

Dean gulped a quick breath before spreading his legs further apart and pulling them up so that his knees were in the air and his feet were planted on the bed. It caused Cas’s weight to sink even further down onto him, and Dean groaned. This was nice. This was very, _very_ nice. Even though they were both heavily aroused at that point, their lips met slowly without any frantic rush. 

Cas licked into Dean’s mouth as he ran his hands down the angel’s back to trail along the curves of his ass. He groaned in pleasure when Cas left his mouth to nibble along his jaw and neck. 

“Did the … did the gay sex book explain what you needed to do?”

Castiel hummed a positive response, but refused to remove his lips from Dean’s skin. He licked a trail down the man’s chest, passing over one nipple then the other, before dipping his tongue into Dean’s belly button. He drifted over to Dean’s hip and sucked a hickey into the cut of it. Dean could only watch him with labored breaths. This was all Cas’ call. The virgin angel apparently knew a hell of a lot more about gay sex than Dean did, and right now he didn’t even care that he had gained the knowledge on Sam’s computer or with Bobby’s reading material. 

Finally, Castiel’s lips brushed the head of Dean’s cock lovingly, and then sucked him down like a pro. Dean tried not arch off the bed and choke the angel, but it had been a hell of a long time since he’d gotten any good head. He fisted his hands in the duvet beneath him, his fingers clutching the fabric with abandon. When Cas began to bob up and down Dean groaned loud and long, hoping the others had gone over to Bobby’s. Or at least turned some loud music on. 

A warm hand brushed over his before rescuing the lube from his clench of death. Dean panted as he stared at the ceiling. If he looked down at Cas right now, this would be over far too quickly. There was a snap of a lid, and all too soon a slick, wet finger had found his hole and was rubbing softly over it. Dean fucking mewled at the sensation. Castiel responded with an answering growl the vibrated along Dean’s dick and almost had his eyes rolling back in his head. It did, in fact, make him completely miss the first press of a slick finger inside of him. Castiel had apparently learned the most important rule of gay sex. That even Dean knew. The more lube, the better. He could feel the sloppy mess of it coating his cheeks and dribbling down the crack of his ass … but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

The finger pushed in further and Dean sucked in a sharp breath. It didn’t hurt, not really … not _yet_ … but it felt like an intrusion. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Castiel released his cock and whispered soft supportive words against Dean’s inner thigh. 

“Try to stay relaxed. Bear down on it instead of fight it. That is supposed to be very important.”

Dean couldn’t even find words to speak… so he just nodded and tried to follow Cas’ instruction. The finger finally slid in all the way to the knuckle, and Dean could feel the web of Castiel’s hand running along his rim as Cas turned his finger around inside of Dean. By this time a cold sweat had broken out on Dean’s skin, but he was starting to get the idea how this might feel good. Hell… men had been doing it for as long as they’d known what their dicks were for, right? Millions of gay dudes couldn’t be wrong. 

“Another finger?”

Again, he couldn’t speak, so answered with a nod. Cas pulled out his one finger, to slide back in with two. Dean grunted at the new burn. Definitely weirder than the single finger, but if he was going to take a dick up there sometime this century… better to just get used to it quick. He forced himself to stay relaxed and bear down on the fingers. He’d been ripped apart by a fucking hellhound and been flayed alive on the rack. This was nothing. 

“You are so good, Dean. You are so beautiful. I have been imagining what you would look like … like this. It has surpassed my every expectation.”

Okay, so Castiel didn’t really get the concept of dirty talk … but with the deep timbre of his voice and the husky flow of his words… he could read the fucking ingredients off a can of soup and Dean would probably come in his pants. 

And then Castiel apparently located Mr. Prostrate because electricity shot through Dean and he cried out and arched his back off the bed. 

“Oh… I am so glad I found that.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the wonder in the angel’s voice.

“Fuck, Cas … I love you so much.”

He was answered with a sucking kiss on the crease of his leg and hip. Without warning a third finger pressed in with the other two, and Cas began to twist them inside of Dean. He could feel his rim stretching to accommodate and suddenly, Dean didn’t want fingers anymore. 

“Cas… Cas… come on. I’m good.”

The angel lifted his head from the critical study of his progress. Dean chanced the glance down to meet his gaze, and fuck. Cas looked fucking amazing planted between his legs like that, pupils blown wide and a healthy flush of desire on his cheeks. 

“I think you need more prep, Dean. You’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean shook his head and rotated his hips so that Cas’ fingers slipped further inside of him. 

“I don’t care. I can’t wait any longer. Fuck, Cas. I need you.”

The angel nodded, looking a little shell-shocked, but pulled his fingers free. Dean whined at the loss of that connection, but Cas was shifting up to his knees and coating his cock with lube. 

“Your first time… it is supposed to be easier on your belly.”

Dean shook his head and lifted his legs to wrap them loosely around Castiel’s hips. 

“No. I want to see you.”

Looking a little unsure, Cas reached up to snag a pillow and carefully wedged it beneath Dean’s hips. Then he paused and ran a hand softly down the center of Dean’s chest to rest on against his heart. 

“Are you sure?”

Dean smirked. 

“Helluva time to ask, Cas.”

The angel grinned, and then pulled back his hand to guide himself to Dean’s lubed hole. The first blunt pressure of the head made Dean choke in a breath, but he forced himself to keep from clenching up, and inch by inch Castiel slid home. The pressure was intense and the burn on his rim watered his eyes. He breathed heavily through his nose as he waited for the initial pain of it to pass. Above him, Cas had clenched his eyes closed and his mouth had dropped open. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow, some already trekking down his face. 

“Oh … OH, Dean… this is…”

Dean took a deep breath and tightened his legs around Cas’ hips. 

“Move a little, Cas … not too much, yet.”

The angel nodded and pulled back a fraction before pressing in again. Dean sucked in some air and angled his hips a little higher. 

“Try it again.”

This time he pulled out a couple inches before pushing back inside. The new angle brushed right over Dean’s prostrate and he gasped in a loud breath. 

“Right there. Right there.”

Pulling out the same amount, this time Cas snapped his hips and thrust in with more force. Dean keened a high pitch noise and grasped Castiel’s forearms in a vice grip. 

“OH FUCK!”

Castiel growled his agreement before setting up a steady pace of pull-snap-pull-snap and Dean could feel every inch of him. His own forgotten cock had lagged a little during the initial penetration, but now it was happily streaking his own belly with pre-come and damn near purple at the head. Cas shifted so he nearly bent Dean in half in order to press a hard kiss to his lips. Dean whimpered when Cas pulled away and started to fuck in even harder. 

He couldn’t stop the sounds escaping his mouth. Dean had always been noisy during sex, but this was fucking ridiculous. Between his keening and mewling, and Cas’ growls it probably sounded like a couple wild animals fucking the shit out of each other in the room. A warm hand gripped Dean’s cock and he opened his eyes to meet Cas’. They didn’t break away from each others’ gaze, stayed laser locked on the pleasure and love flashing across the distance between them. Cas stroked Dean’s cock once, then twice … and Dean was done. 

He arched dramatically off the bed and cried out his release, marking his own stomach and the back of Castiel’s hand in thick, white ropes. Aftershocks of the orgasm continued to spark through him as Cas concentrated on fucking into Dean as desperately as he could. Then the angel froze above him and gasped. The cock in Dean’s ass swelled and pulsed, come slicking the way even more as Cas continued to roll his hips slowly. 

His angel looked completely fucked out. He was gorgeous. Dean decided that Cas should stay that way as much as possible. 

When Cas’ hips stilled Dean allowed his legs to fall loosely around him. He could feel Cas slowly softening inside of him, but the angel made no move to pull out. Instead he was running his hands all over Dean’s body in awe. Dean grinned at him. It was entirely possible that he might have blown a couple of his angel’s fuses. 

“I … I really liked that. A lot.”

Dean cackled softly. Sleep was sneaking up behind him. 

“That … would be the understatement of the century, Cas.”

The angel tilted his head in confusion, but kept quiet. He finally slipped free of Dean’s body, and Dean sighed a little at the loss. That was a pretty fucking amazing way of connecting with someone you loved… inviting them into your body. He understood a little more now why women were more cautious with their lovers. If Cas hadn’t been so attentive and loving … that could have been a horrible experience. 

Dean gave a full body stretch once Cas moved off the bed. His ass pulled a little uncomfortably, and his lower back twinged, but hell if it wasn’t worth it. He hadn’t paid attention to where Cas had gone, but the angel suddenly reappeared with a wet washcloth. 

“Did you … just go out to the bathroom to get a washcloth?”

Castiel titled his head at him again. 

“Yes? It is customary for the top to clean up the bottom. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep dirty and uncomfortable.”

Dean blinked at him. 

“The bathroom is downstairs.”

Cas nodded. 

“Yes?”

Dean flung a swishy hand signal at him.

“You’re naked.”

Cas nodded. 

“Yes?”

Dean sighed. 

“Well … was anyone down there?”

Cas nodded.

“Yes? They were having dinner.”

Dean groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. Castiel took this as a go ahead for clean up, and started to gently swipe the warm cloth across his butt and thighs. Dean grumbled into the pillow. 

“Did they see you?”

Cas cleaned himself up quickly and then tossed the cloth to the floor. 

“Not at first, but I wanted to make sure that Sam and Bobby knew you weren’t hurt and that we both enjoyed ourselves, and that I was taking care of you properly.”

Dean groaned louder into the pillow. 

“Oh god.”

Castiel laid down snug against Dean’s side and planted a soft kiss to his shoulder. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

Dean flipped his head to stare into Cas’ earnest eyes and found himself smiling contentedly. 

“Nah, Cas. It’s fine. You did perfect.”

The blinding smile he received in return was enough to make Dean forget about all the ribbing he would likely be getting for days to come. It would all be fine. Besides, he was the fucking Chosen … he could just electrocute them in the ass. He leaned over to place a quick kiss on his angel’s lips. 

“Love you, Cas.”

Castiel smiled as he snuggled down into Dean’s body and mouthed along his shoulder. 

“I love you, Dean.”

Just before Dean slipped away into unconsciousness, Cas spoke against his skin one more time. The warm breath of his words against bare skin felt almost as intimate as the act they had just shared. 

“Dean … you said once… that I would need a last name… and I told you that I would think about it and let you know.”

Dean hummed a mixed sound of agreement and acknowledgement. Castiel paused for a moment before continuing. 

“Can I … can I have yours?”

There was a beat of saturated silence that blanketed the room before Dean finally opened his eyes and met his angel’s steady gaze. Cas looked willful and determined… if a little unsure. Arm feeling almost too relaxed to work properly, Dean slowly brought his hand to the angel’s face and let his thumb drift slowly across Cas’ bottom lip. 

“Damn straight, you can.”

Castiel’s resulting grin was blinding. 

From downstairs Gabriel’s voice tumbled into the room. 

“NIGHT, MOM! NIGHT, DAD! TRY TO KEEP THE ORGASMIC SCREAMING DOWN TO A MINIMUM LEVEL NEXT TIME!”

Dean closed his eyes and could see the arch-angel snickering in the kitchen, about to take a sip from a can of overly-sugared soda pop. Dean sent a little push of power towards him and the can of soda exploded all over Gabriel. Dean pulled back quickly before the angel could retaliate. 

“YOU BASTARD!”

Cas huffed a laugh against his shoulder as Dean drifted off to sleep. 

Yeah … this life was gonna be alright. 

 

~*~ FIN ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> I haz Tumblr!!! Come say hi! :) [HERE](http://bunnymaccool.tumblr.com/)


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